V v exciting, had my first meeting with the
publisher, editor and the team who will be responsible for my book yesterday. We
had the official handover of the manuscript. We discussed the schedule and deadlines, it all feels very official. I
think this book might actually be published and *I* will have a book on the
shelves with my name on it. I get quite
giddy with excitement.

The draft cover will be done by early next
week. We are now in the edit process and the initial edit will take six
weeks. Then we go back and forth with
layouts and line edits or whatever. There is a whole production process that kicks in from now, and it is
all very smooth and well managed. The book is due for release mid August,
exciting huh!

We are still missing the tagline though.
Damn. We will have a ‘blad’ ready by
early next week already. That is a mini
mock up of the book to take to the book sellers and marketing people. COOL!

The edit team had a few suggestions re the
book, which I initially find difficult to hear but it makes sense and the more
I think about it, the more I agree. They also want the book quite a bit
shorter. It is now 112,000 words; they want it down to between 80-90,000 words.

We will see. I am nervous about the editing
process, but I am also a little used to it after going back and forth so many
times with Tess, that has helped me a lot. She eased me into the process. (Thanks
my darling Tessy)

The best bit is that they liked the book.
That felt good.

Phew. V nerve wracking. I left the meeting
exhausted actually, and not because they weren’t nice, they were very nice, but
it is SO personal, that is my life on those pages. Talking about cutting parts
feels like talking about cutting parts of my life. I know it is necessary, but
it is hard to hear. But on the whole I do agree with them, and that is why I
have them there, to present an objective view on what a reader would want to
read.

They raised an interesting example of where
we could cut, and as they were talking I realized exactly what they meant. They
started talking about how in parts I get too personal, too raw, too sore. They said we should end the chapter sooner,
let the reader imagine the pain rather than me tell in minute detail how I
felt. Initially I balked at their suggestion, but then I realized they were
right. In fact my non-infertile friend
Meriel who also did an edit for me suggested the same thing. Often leaving things to the reader’s
imagination is more powerful than a recount of how you felt. And I know why I had it in there, it is
because what I went through was so fucking terrible, so so so bad, that I want
the reader / friend / stranger, whoever is reading, to hurt as well. To make them go ‘ouch’. I had never thought of that before, but I
realized it yesterday. And it is not
necessary. The reader will go ‘ouch’
without me forcing them to read the detail of my inner emotional turmoil. And of course some of that stuff is
necessary, and will be in the book, but there are other parts where it can be
cut.

But still, phew. Hectic. The book is so personal, on so many levels. It is more than a book; it
is my life. I just know that any
negative reviews, of which I am sure there will be plenty, are going to be hard
to deal with.

But, they liked the book. And that is good. So far so good, things are happening.

I am v proud of myself for doing this. I am normally such a terrible
procrastinator. If any thing seems like
too much of an effort then I give it up. But this I have stuck to, even when it felt
more like homework or a chore than anything else.

This might not apply to you if you are not
in the corporate environment, but then again, maybe it does. Have no idea how much handshaking gets done
among the SAHM’s. For all I know you
could be shaking hands all day.

I have a bit of a ‘thing’ about germs and
dirt. I am doing my very best not to
pass this on to my kids though. I know
how important it is for them to explore their world and to get dirty while they
have fun. I have done remarkably well,
even if it meant physically sitting on my hands to prevent myself from running
over with a sterile wipe to wipe their hands and face. So I really am trying with them. I don’t want
them to inherit my little paranoia. Just
today they dug in the dirt. Horrors.

This little ‘thing’ I have means that I try
my utmost best not to touch public things, like door handles and hand
rails. Having to push the shopping cart
around the supermarket is a nightmare for me. I can’t wait to get home and wash my hands. I am not obsessive compulsive, I won’t NOT
push the shopping trolley, but I am very aware of germy situations.

The seemingly innocent handshake at work presents
my biggest challenge. I hate shaking
hands. Yuck! Touching someone else’s germy hands!! They
could have just picked their nose or wiped their bum. And I am expected to press my palm against
theirs?? Shudder.

I try and avoid the handshake at all
costs. When meeting new people I am
quick to do a semi casual wave, a general ‘hi all’ kind of wave. However, sometimes the person is too quick for
me and sticks their germ infested paw hand out before I can do my wave
and I am left with two choices: either
pretend I don’t see their outstretched hand and wave anyway, or I have to press
my pristine palm against their Ebola / E.coli infested hand. Unfortunately, as hard as I try and avoid it,
sometimes I just have to shake the damn thing.

Of course the germ swapping
handshaking usually takes place BEFORE one’s meeting and you have to sit
through the entire meeting with someone else’s E.coli on your hand for the hour
or so it takes to work through the meeting. After I have shaken the person’s hand my hand always feels heavy, as if
the layers of their dirt have transferred to my hand and is now weighing me
down. I have to use the same heavy hand
to hold my pen. The nfestation abounds!

It is terribly traumatic, this handshaking
business. I try and avoid it at all
costs. What a stupid idea anyway, why
the fuck should we have to touch each other? Whose idea was is? It is a stupid
idea. Stupid.

And some people aren’t satisfied with
shaking your hand just once! No, they
want to shake your hand again when they say goodbye. Good lord, where will it end? Next thing they will want to stick their
tongue in my mouth or lick my cheek or something.

I can’t bare it. Am thinking of investing in a pair of Michael
Jackson type gloves.

Please don’t try and shake my hand if you
ever meet me. It is not that I don’t want
to be your friend; it is just that I really prefer to keep my germs in-house.

I do not look at my best in these pictures. I was v tired, had a week of bad nights, teething babes, hangovers and had no make up on, but I love the feeling of these photos, they are so real. My wonderful little family. I feel so blessed.

It has recently come to my attention that I
am getting older. God knows how the hell
that happened, or even when it happened. It was just yesterday that I was hip, cool, modern, ‘with it’.

Besides the obvious physical signs of
aging*, of which there many and various, there are other subtle signs that I
might just be growing up and getting older.

I am not *yet* at the stage where comfort
takes precedence over looks / style, but comfort is playing an increasingly
role in my purchasing decision when buying shoes / clothes. But as I say, it is not yet THE deciding
factor.

However, there are other signs:

·I have switched from the
commercial music radio stations to ‘talk’ radio, where they discuss and debate
various topical issues

·I now make a point of catching
the news, either on TV or on radio. I
remember when world news was something my father was interested in, not
me! If it didn’t affect me, it didn’t
interest me. Now I actually care about what is happening in the rest of the
world, the environment, global warming and world peace.

·I have asked people to “turn
that awful racket down” when being subjected to loud music. Oh, the shame!

·I am not ashamed to admit I
love the Carpenters and the Bee Gees.

·I don’t ‘get’ some of the music
they play today.

·I say things about “the youth
of today…”

Oh fuck. I think I might be a grown up. How the hell did that happen?

My lovely mother,
who is nothing but excruciatingly honest, said the other day “you know you are
getting older when you see your children aging”. Thanks mom! Buddies for ever.

Besides the
physical, what are the signs that tell you you are growing up and getting
older?

*Got a text
message from my botox doctor reminding me it is time for my botox maintenance /
upgrade. Sigh. I don’t really think I
can justify spending that much money on my forehead. If it lasted longer, then fine. But to spend that much money every three
months….. Not now. Money is a little tight. DAMN!!! Now I have a crinkly forehead to go with my spectacles and
semi-comfortable shoes. Oh well, there is always the Carpenters. SOB!

My dear nerdy friend Boulder decided to look up what latitude or longitude or global positioning quadrant Cape Town falls on and how that compares to a city in the US. Apparently Cape Town (the city where I live, and quite possibly the most gorgeous city in the world) falls on the same coordinates as Laguna Beach.

Ok, I know you are DYING to give out some
mommy assvice (it’s an affliction, once you become a mom, the need to dispense
assvice is endemic, I do the same):

1. Shoes: How the hell will I ever get my kids to wear shoes?

As you might (or might not) know, our
seasons are different to yours, so here in SA we are starting to head towards
winter and it is time to think about putting shoes on the kids. I don’t really believe in putting shoes on
babies, so up until now my kids have been shoe free. A belief that has come to bite me in the arse
because my kids flat out refuse to have any thing on their feet. For the last 7 months or so (which equates to
50% of their life), they haven’t had any thing on their feet, not even
socks. My attempts to put slippers or
sneakers on their feet is met with derisive disbelief. ‘Dear Mother, are you completely fucking insane? You want me to put WHAT on my
feet? Take it off you mad cow’. What am
I to do? It is getting chilly in the
evenings now. How do I keep the damn
shoes on?

2. Dummies / pacifiers / whatever the hell you
call them.

Am I making the biggest mistake of my
life? Up until about a week ago Adam
hasn’t been at all interested in a dummy. Kate loves hers, but she is only allowed to have it at night, or for
naps. It lives in the cot. She is happy with that arrangement because
she is a happy child. She doesn’t ever ‘need’
her dummy outside of naps. We had some
old dummies (Avent ones, bought before Miss Muffet made her preference known
for Nuk dummies) that we threw in the bath (poor kids, no money for real bath
toys) and Adam has recently started sucking on them. In fact he has fallen in love with them, and
any other dummy he can find, including Kate’s. Because it was so sweet and unusual to see him suck a dummy we let him
do it. Now he has a dummy when he goes
to bed. For the first time, at 14
months!! Am I making a mistake by
allowing him to suck a dummy or should I just allow the little bugger the
simple pleasures of babyhood? Remember,
Adam is a PITA and wont put up with these ridiculous ‘only for sleep time’
rules.

3. Getting used to the camp cot / pack n play
etc

We are going away in April, first time
since the arrival of the babes. Quite a
big thing. We obviously won’t be taking
their cots. We have two what we call
camp cots here in South Africa, I think you call them pack n plays or something
like that. The portable cots. Cribs. My goodness this translation from English to American is bloody hard
work, especially after a glass of wine. Or two. Any way, we are taking the camping cots with us. Now, they are obviously not used to them, and
we need to get them used to them before we end up with several sleepless nights. Do you think I should try letting them nap in
them or sleep in them? Or should I let
them play in them for a while? Any tips
on this? In fact, any travel tips for
me? We are driving, not flying. It is about a 3 hour drive, I think.

I am sure there were other things but I
have just finished my second glass of wine and my brain is tired. Time to go wash my bits and pass out
fall asleep.

Wait! Thought of another!

4. Sleeping attire

What do you dress your kids in at night
(fall/winter)? We are still using the
grobags – I can’t imagine not using them, the kids sleep much better in them
and they know it is sleepy time when the grobags are on. When do they become too big for the grobags?

K, can’t think of any thing else now. Been a long day, time for bed. ‘gnight!

This and this is bullshit. After hearing about my friend’s terrible
loss, I have zero fucking tolerance for nastiness.

How DARE people be mean to these two
women? How dare they! What was their crime? Being honest?

Because of people’s outright nastiness and
personal attacks both these bloggers have turned off comments and are both
feeling shitty.

Why be personal? Why attack someone’s personality or personal
appearance? Why? Does it make you feel good? Does it make you feel better about
yourself? And if you are so sure about
your opinion, why do it anonymously.

And don’t give me that bullshit about ‘if
you are too fragile then you shouldn’t blog’. Bullshit. There is a thing like
common fucking decency and manners. You
can disagree with someone without calling them names or attacking them. Can we not have an intelligent debate without
name calling?

My heart is aching. My friend Vanessa’s beautiful daughter has passed
away. I am devastated. Little Kendra was such a special baby; she
was born with an extremely rare genetic disorder called Jacobsen Syndrome. She was doing so fabulously well; she was such
a beautiful, happy soul. She got sick
last week and passed away in hospital in Friday night.

I am heartbroken, absolutely heartbroken
for Vanessa. Please keep her and her
family and little Kendra in your hearts.

Sometimes life is unbearably cruel.

Goodbye sweet Kendra, we will all miss you
so. Say hello to Ben for me.

There
are vast differences amongst Tertia's blog readers. We come from
different parts of the world, are of different races, religions,
genders, and sexual orientations. Although, no matter who we are, or
where we come from, we all inevitably become affected in some way by a
most horrible thing. That common denominator, is Cancer. This disease
does not discriminate. Personally, I don't know anyone who has not had
someone in their life stricken by this disease. It affects us all in
some way.

Would you like to help me
raise money to find a cure? At the very least, money raised will fund
awareness campaigns to promote early detection and contribute to
programs that help support the newly diagnosed as well as their
families.

It has become a yearly event for me to participate in the American Cancer Society's signature event, Relay
for Life.
Relay for Life raises money to fight Cancer and to raise awareness of
Cancer in the community. It honors Cancer survivors, and remembers
those who have lost their lives to Cancer. As of this year, Relays take
place in over 23 countries worldwide. Why do I Relay? My mother is a 3
time Cancer survivor and is currently battling Leukemia. My father died
of Pancreatic Cancer at the age of 52. I lost my grandmother,
grandfather, uncle and mother-in-law to various forms of Cancer. The
list goes on and on. My family members have all died from one form of
Cancer or another. I became involved in the Relay for Life 3 years ago
when my dear friend, Kathy, was also defeated by this dreaded disease.
She was a 34 year old Super-Mom who never smoked and took great care of
herself. She left behind her husband and two daughters, ages 8 and 5.
The same ages of two of my boys at the time. It hit home for me. It
very easily could have been me leaving my husband and young boys
behind. I needed to act and try to make a difference. I walk with a
Relay team
named in Kathy's memory, made up of fellow PTA members. Her death
struck us all very hard. When I Relay, I have Kathy's name on my shirt
and memories of her and the many family members that I've lost in my
heart. It's a very emotional 14 hours.

As
you probably know, this event is about fund-raising, and I would like
to ask you to sponsor me to walk in this event. I will be at the event
for the duration - from 4pm on May 5th, until 6am on May 6th.
I will not sleep.... I will walk for a cure. I will walk for Hope. When
I am not walking, I will be tending to my one of a kind on-site novelty
booth. It is an idea that I came up with the first year I participated.
I sell all types of things that the participants and visitors are
interested in buying. All proceeds go to the American Cancer Society.Last
year my booth brought in an additional $550 in on-site funraising.
Overall, I raised over $700. This year I have set a personal goal of
$1000. I may not be able to reach that goal, but with your help I will
be that much closer. Ever dollar brings us closer to a Cancer-free
world.

If you would like to donate, you can do so right here through my web page using your credit card or debit card. It is a secure American Cancer
Society site, so your information is protected.

If you would like more information, please contact me.
I'd be happy to get any information you'd like. If you would like to
become involved, I'd be happy to assist you, or contact your local American Cancer Society office. You may also want to go here and click "View the 'Why we Relay' Video". (requires Real Player)

Had fabulous lunch with two absolutely
divine bloggers today. Alex from the
Infertile Gourmet and Millie from Out Damn Egg
who I met on her last trip to Cape Town. Those are both such stunning women.

We had a fantastic time, divine food, such
wonderful company. I had two glasses of wine and chatted my head off.

I can’t believe they came all the way to South Africa,
just to see me. I feel so honoured.

Actually, they are here to do IVF. So please keep all your bits crossed for them, send all your positive karma etc. Their cycles just have to work. They need some ‘made in Africa’ babies.

I only got one pic and it is a little dark,
what a pity because you can’t see how absolutely gorgeous Alex’s face is. She has the most beautiful skin, ever. Am v envious. And Millie looks about 12 years old. Cow. They clearly do NOT live
under the African sun.

(blog reader helped me lighten it up a bit - is this better?)

'

Seriously, what lovely women. I had such a good time. Thanks dear bloggy friends, and wishing you
both lots and lots of luck.

While we were away, Marko and the babes had their own version of al fresco lunch with drinks.